Stay With Me
by herecstasy
Summary: Gomez Addams may not be long for this world, following some bad news from his physician. The one person he needs to tell the most is the one he cannot bear to see hurt. Envisioned as Anjelica and Raul's Morticia and Gomez.
1. Chapter 1

_"You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."_ _ **J.M. Barrie**_

For a man who had just been told he may be imminently dying, Gomez Addams was remarkably calm. Perhaps his mind was protecting him at this moment, as he neared the end of his evening walk around the graveyards of his family home. Death held no fear for him, only intrigue and excitement. A nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that he only welcomed death if his beautiful wife was by his side to take that adventure with him, but he pushed those unwelcome thoughts aside for the time being, as he entered the family crypt, one hand in the pocket of his quilted jacket and puffing on his cigar; the very image out outward collectedness and indifference.

"How about that, then Mamma," he murmured, as he stood in front of a grand monument to Mother and Father Addams, shaking his head in solemn amusement. It just wasn't the Addams' style to fade away into obscurity. His family met their ends in gloriously terrifying ways. Was he to be the first to break that great tradition?

After a full hour re-communing with his lost loved ones, Gomez slowly returned home long past sundown to an eerie house. The flickering remnants of the church candles Lurch had lit many hours before lighting his way through the mansion, casting terrifying shadows across the walls, shadows which filled Gomez with a reassuring calmness and familiarity. His home, his castle, with all the fear and foreboding it held for anyone outside the Addams Family, and yet it was the place he felt safest in this world. No harm could come to him, his beloved wife, his children, his brother, mother-in-law or their loved ones, within its walls. He had always believed that. Now, for the first time, he knew not even this grand family home could protect him from his future.

As he wandered through the halls that night, he stopped at the doorway of each slumbering family member, lost in fond thought as he watched his children sleeping like the dead; Wednesday perfectly still, her arms folded across her chest and Pugsley, his hand dangling over the edge of his bed, still clutching the carving knife he had taken to bed, clearly with the intent of scaring his sister before falling asleep. Gomez chuckled as he strode to his son's bedside, gently ruffled his hair and reached out to take the knife from him. Pugsley, still deep in sleep, took that moment to sigh and roll onto his side, hugging the knife close to his chest as though it were a teddy.

"Goodnight, my son," Gomez whispered fondly as he turned to leave. He continued his tour of the house, that same remarkable calm settling over him once again. Whether he had accepted his lot, make peace with the news, or was in denial, he did not know at that moment, but he relished the feeling. He was still in control, for now.

In not much time at all, Gomez found himself at the master bedroom door. The climb up that last set of steps had been the hardest of the night. Morticia and he had made the decision many years ago now that their room, their sanctuary, must be on a floor of its own, far from prying eyes and unwelcome interruptions. They adored their family, but their time together prior to bed was the most precious few hours of the day. Gomez could handle the thought of breaking the news to everyone else, but now he was mere steps away from his beloved Morticia, his resolve deserted him. When he had asked Dr. Croupenstein how he could tell his wife what was to come, the good doctor had asked him to do the impossible.

"Put yourself in Mrs Addams' place," she had suggested. "If it were her who was dying, would you not want to know sooner rather than later?"

It had been a well-intentioned piece of advice, and Gomez appreciated the candour as she spoke about dying and death; in fact, he had instructed her to use such words, to be straight with him. What he couldn't bear was the mere notion of Morticia coming to the end of her life. Rather than focus on the task in hand, thinking how he would want the subject to be broached if he were in Morticia's shoes, he grew overwhelmed at the uninvited images now flooding his head. He had taken a courteous leave of the doctor, and walked the several miles back home, trying all the while to banish the thoughts of a desperately ill Morticia breathing her last as he looked on helplessly. The walk home, and the stroll around his grounds had calmed Gomez somewhat, but now as he pushed open the hard oak door, he felt fully lost once again.

Morticia was naturally still awake, unwilling as she was to fall asleep without her husband at her side. She hadn't asked where he was bound when he had left that afternoon, and he hadn't offered the information himself, for fear of worrying her. Sat up in bed, draped in whisper-thin black gossamer and lace, she looked up from her book and smiled at her husband's return.

"Mon cher, I've missed you," she said simply, reaching out her hand to him. Gomez crossed quickly to her side, sinking to his knees as he grasped her hand gently and pressed it to his lips. Morticia noted the usual fervour and passion with which he kissed her hand (and wrist, arm, neck…) was missing, replaced now with a tender sadness in his usually fiery eyes.

"Darling, what is it?" she inquired with concern, her fingers caressing his cheek, thumb brushing over his lips by force of habit.

"Nothing, cara mia," his said eventually, nuzzling her wrist. It could wait until the morning. Why ruin their time together in the safety and peace of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The next dawn came far too soon for Gomez's liking. It always did, even those blissful winter months when the darkness came to them earlier and earlier. Indeed, Morticia and Gomez had married upon the winter solstice, when they had enjoyed a wonderful 15 full hours of night. But no matter how long the darkness lasted, with its promise of tranquility and intimacy, it was never enough, not for an Addams. Gomez had risen a full hour before Morticia this morning, reluctant to wake her from her slumber and yet unable to quell the thoughts rushing through his head enough to remain asleep himself. He'd dressed quietly and slipped outside to the vast, thorn-encased greenhouse that ran down the entire west side of his mansion. He lit a cigar and strode around aimlessly, grateful for the black net curtains that Lurch had once upon a time placed over the windows, all the better to block the poisonous sunlight from their crop of desert plants and beautiful weeds. The wooden table in the centre of the conservatory, married to the floor over many years by the roots wrapped tightly around the legs, was strewn with rose heads and petals, and in the centre sat a vase of perfect green thorn steams and leaves. Morticia had been flower arranging recently, he noted with a smile.

A scurrying sound, fingertips crunching through the carpet of golden brown leaves over the stone floor, caught his attention. Gomez smiled as the disembodied hand climbed with ease onto the table, making space amongst Morticia's discarded flower heads, and signed a cheery 'good morning'.

"And to you too, old fellow," replied Gomez courteously, simultaneously nodding a greeting towards Lurch, for that imposing figure had just lumbered into the greenhouse, carrying a tray with deliciously charred toast and a steaming hot drink, which he placed in front of his master. The outside world may never understand the ease with which Gomez – and indeed the whole family – could converse with Thing and Lurch, given that they had no 'formal' communication as one might categorise it, but to Gomez, these were the two souls with whom he could share anything. He invited Lurch to take a seat, and after some searching for a suitably strong one able to bear the butler's weight, Gomez began to pour his heart out to his most trusted confidants.

Morticia had by now woken, disappointed to find an empty space next to her in the bed. It wasn't like Gomez not to wake her with a kiss and an oath of love to start the day. She felt that same sense of unease she had the night before, as she had fallen asleep in his arms, listening to his heart beating. Something hadn't sounded right, she knew his rhythm better than her own, and it had perturbed her. But Gomez had promised her that nothing was wrong, had he not? That was enough for her, and with a final kiss upon his chest, she had fallen asleep.

She rose and tied her back robe around her shoulders, covered just enough to be decent if the first person she met about the house that morning were not her husband, although her sole intention was to find him and entice him straight back to bed. She stole down the stairs, peeking in at her children's room on the way. She knew it had been tidy when she had wished them goodnight the evening before, yet now it was a mess of strewn cushions, toys and kitchen implements. A fierce fight prior to school… how did they find the energy? She smiled fondly and continued on her way. The house was oddly quiet that morning. She knew Wednesday and Pugsley were in class; Pugsley had been so excited the night before, informing his mother that they would be dissecting frogs in anatomy class the next day. Morticia had indulged her son and daughter, allowing Mama to take them on an evening stroll around the grounds to collect any varmints the elder member of the family might need for that evening's potion, and as a special treat, the children would prepare them for the cauldron. She also knew that her mother was shopping at the dark market, a regular Thursday morning fixture for the witch about town. But where were Thing, Lurch and, most importantly, Gomez? She reached the door of the greenhouse, and smiled as she heard her husband's low musical voice. She pushed the door slightly, and as his voice became clearer, she noted the catch in his tone. Something was distressing her Gomez.

"You're right, old man, of course. Death is a great escapade, and that isn't what concerns me about all this. It's not even the children… they would fully expect their father to go before them. I just wish I could give them the same thrill as generations of Addams have had over the centuries, an explosive ending and a great story for them to tell my grandchildren some day. No, they will be just fine, with Mama to guide them to the paths of wickedness and sin. It's Morticia that concerns me. How can I tell my beloved one that I am dying, and I will have to break our pact to go together into our next great adventure?" At this, Gomez began to weep. Thing jumped into action, pulling a crimson handkerchief from Gomez's breast pocket and handing it over. Lurch vocalised sympathetically, and rose from his seat. He patted Gomez's shoulder, quite possibly dislocating it in the process, and started across the room to the door, with the intention of pouring his master a stiff drink. Morticia, stunned and devastated by what she had overheard, slipped away back into the shadows as Lurch approached, before flying upstairs to their bedroom, the only place in which she felt truly safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the solitude of their marital bedroom, Morticia lay back against the black silk pillows, allowing the tears to fall freely from her eyes. Her mind raced ten to the dozen, as she tried to comprehend what she had overheard. She didn't know what distressed her more; that something was fatally wrong with Gomez and she would lose her beloved husband far too soon, or that he felt he couldn't tell her, share his woes with her. They shared everything; highs and lows, fears and wishes for the future, pleasure and pain. For a full hour, she ruminated on what she had overheard, tried desperately to think of any way in which she could have been mistaken, misunderstood what had been said. Outwardly, her demeanour remained as calm as always, but her tears continued to flow.

"Oh Gomez," she finally whispered to the empty room, her voice broken by sorrow. "This cannot be. I can't live without you, mon coeur. I cannot, I shall not."

She thought once again about night before, realising now that the shift from hot-blooded passionate kisses to sorrowful, tender ones had been as a result of Gomez's upset over the news. Why oh why did he not speak to her, allow her to comfort him, ease his pain as she always had and always would. Did he really think she was that fragile? She was distraught, of course, but she wouldn't break. She would mourn for her husband in her own time, but any time they had remaining together was far too precious now. She would give everything she had over to him and his happiness for the remainder of their days together.

With a final shaking breath, Morticia forcefully wiped the tears from her cheeks, and moved over to her vanity mirror, carefully reapplying her make up. If her beloved hadn't felt he could speak to her just yet, there would be a reason, and she would afford him the time he needed to gather himself together. Whatever happened, she took their vows to each other deadly seriously. The ones they had made as they had wed, yes, but also the promises they whispered to each other each night as they lay in each other's embrace. They often spoke of death, and what may come after. Neither were afraid of the next chapter of their story together, an unwavering faith in each other. No, their one big fear was a day without their lover, a life alone. When one went, they would both go, they swore to each other. The thought that this might be taken away from them was more than Morticia could stand, and she thought she finally understood why Gomez had been unable to tell her yet.

She calmly dressed, noting that she took more care over her appearance than usual. Morticia was blessed with darkly ethereal beauty, and although she took pride in her presentation, it was usually only after dark, when she wished to stir her fiery Castilian love into a desperate frenzy that she noted the effect every inch of fabric had on her curves. Today, however, she would dress for his pleasure too, it was something she knew she had control over. She reached for her black and pewter pendant, the one Gomez had presented to her on their last anniversary, engraved with the words _'Mi_ _corazón,_ _mi vida, siempre'._ My heart, my life, always. As she fastened the clasp, Morticia heard the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching the bedroom door. Usually this would be enough to set her heart racing, rarely would she allow him to take more than two steps inside the room before she was in his arms, teasing with kisses full of seductive promise. Had all this changed now? Today perhaps. She hoped not for good. Standing to greet her husband, Morticia cast her eyes over his furrowed brow, somewhat broken posture and handsome eyes usually so filled with fire for her, now regarding her with abject sadness. She walked to his side, and raised a hand to stroke his cheek.

"Gomez, my darling," she said softly. "You look a little tired. Do you need a rest, mon amor?"

"Tish..." was all he could manage, as he enveloped her in his arms, head turned to press a tender kiss to her forehead. She understood, allowing him whatever time he needed right then and there, pleased that he still wanted to hold her close and take comfort from her adoration. A full minute passed, and eventually Gomez moved his head back slightly to gaze steadily into Morticia's exquisite dark eyes.

"You look radiant, cara mia," he said honestly. "I thank the gods, both wicked and good, that you are mine, Tish. I will never know what made me worthy of your love, but you have to know, it's the reason I breathe. I adore you, my Morticia."

These declarations of love and unworthiness were not unusual coming from Gomez. As he had once advised his dear brother Fester, an Addams man should make his beloved feel like the most sublime creature on Earth, leave no doubt as to how much she is adored. While Gomez was free and fervent with his words, Morticia often chose actions to demonstrate the depth of her love to her husband. A single look from those dark brown eyes, a teasing smile or a blood red fingernail tracing the words over his chest left Gomez in no doubt of how she felt about him. But today, Morticia had the sudden compulsion to be more verbally explicit about her affections.

"Oh Gomez, mon amor. I do love you so. I thank the stars in the sky and the dirt below our feet that a handsome, debonair man like you would even look at me twice. You must have known that every girl at the funeral the night we met wanted you. That you chose me that night, and every night since, I will be forever thankful. You are my life blood, Gomez Addams. Don't ever leave me."

This last sentence slipped from her lips before she could stop herself. Morticia usually spoke with cool collectedness, well aware of the impact and intonation of every word she uttered, more left unspoken than was vocalised, but in her haste to reassure Gomez of her love, she had become ardent and impetuous. Afraid that her plea that Gomez never leave her would give away her knowledge of his secret, she pressed herself back into his embrace, hands tangled in his hair, lips firmly against his. Gomez didn't need to be told twice, allowing his wife to push him against the door as hands gripped at expensive black lace and everything but Morticia, here and now, was forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of that day passed in something of a blur for Gomez. He recalled falling back into bed consumed with passion for his beautiful wife, coupled with a need to focus on anything but that dark shadow that loomed ever present over him. They made love over and over, each time a little less frantic and lustful, a little more tender and intimate. Lurch had come in search of his master and mistress long past their expected arrival in the dining hall for their midday meal, but as he had approached their bedroom door and heard the goings-on within, had cumbersomely turned on his heel and headed directly back downstairs, pulling shut various doors behind him as he went, in order to protect their privacy.

Finally, Gomez and Morticia rose and showered together both enjoying the cool water coursing over their bodies; as ever, cooling his burning skin, while she was unable to bear any sort of heat, bar that of her husband. They dressed in near silence, punctuated only by the occasional kiss. As they descended the stirs together, Gomez's arm resting easy around Morticia's waist, the grand front door burst open, and the respectful quiet of the house was shattered for the next few hours, as Wednesday chased Pugsley through the door, scalpel in hand.

They spent their usual family evening together; the children had finally called a truce and had various maps and plans spread out over the floor, working together with Fester to plot against the neighbourhood kids and their new lemonade stall. Mama was busy knitting nooses for the local bring and buy sale. Thing joined Lurch at the grand organ, as together they played something akin to a duet. Gomez let out a satisfied sigh, and leaned his head against Morticia's shoulder, as they both sat on the leather couch and watched their family play. Finally, as the clock struck 11, Lurch and Thing finished their cacophony to polite applause from the Addams'.

"Children, time for bed," Morticia said firmly, holding up her hand to stem the inevitable complaints. "If you want to be at your best for plotting and planning mischief after school tomorrow, you need your sleep. Now say goodnight to your father and I, and off you go."

Pugsley and Wednesday embraced their parents obediently, and then turned to their uncle.

"Uncle Fester, will you tell us a bedtime story?" Pugsley asked. Fester turned to Gomez, who smiled indulgently at his son.

"You may have a bedtime story with your Uncle Fester, but straight to sleep after!"

Fester grinned as he ushered his niece and nephew from the room, with a clumsy wave goodnight to the rest of the group.

"How about I tell you the original Cinderella, children? Her sisters had to cut off their own toes in order to try and fit into the glass slipper when the Prince came to visit. Or Snow White; the Queen was ordered to dance in red-hot iron shoes until she dropped down dead..."

Fester's voice and the children's happy yells at the promise of these beloved fairytales faded off as they ran upstairs and out of earshot. Morticia slipped her hand onto Gomez's knee, a sign she was ready to retire to the bedroom with her husband too. He held her hand in his, and stood, supporting her to her feet as they bade goodnight to Mama, Lurch and Thing. The replies came in the form of nod and murmur from the butler and a thumbs up from the hand. Mama grinned as she placed a protective goodnight hex on her beloved daughter and son-in-law, part of her nightly routine since Morticia's childhood, and wished them a dark and stormy night's sleep.

As they lay entwined in their satin sheets that night, Gomez pressed up behind Morticia, holding her safe in his arms and her cool body soothing his feverish one as always, his fingers traced her sculptural face, as they were wont to do. Many's a night they would lie entangled in each other, not able to bear a single inch between them. They both lived for that moment when they were lost in that divine world, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, where there was nothing but the sound of each other's breathing and soft mutters of adoration, and the feel of their lover's skin next to theirs. Gomez's fingers would often alight upon Morticia's porcelain cheeks, tracing a gentle pattern in a feather-light touch, until they would stray a little too close to her irresistible lips, upon which his beloved would snap playfully with her teeth, leaving tiny scars on his fingertips. Only tonight, as their dreamy, familiar little routine was played out, Gomez was jolted back to the starkness of reality by the feeling of tears rolling down Morticia's face. He paused a moment, regarding his darling one, lying deathly still in his arms. Her shoulders didn't shake with sorrow, and he could hear no catch in her breathing, yet he knew Morticia didn't sob like most people. Indeed, for her to shed tears at all, something must be terribly wrong.

"What is it, cara mia?" Gomez whispered against her shoulder.

"My darling Gomez," Morticia murmured, turning in his arms to lay facing him, her hands caressing his cheeks as he settled her back into his embrace. "I overheard you, mon cher. Talking to Thing and Lurch. I… I know."

Gomez was at a loss for words. For 24 hours now, he had agonised over how to tell Morticia he would be forced soon to leave her behind, something he never thought he would have had to do. That she was now aware was a source of both relief and distress to him. Relief as he wouldn't have to find the words to speak the unspeakable. Distress because he never kept anything from his darker half, and at the thought of her torment throughout the day. He opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by Morticia's lips pressed against his.

"Don't say anything," she whispered as their lips finally parted and she rested her forehead against his, relishing the feeling of his hot breath blowing over her neck. "This moment right here mon amor, between the waking world and our slumberland. This is when I feel safest, my darling. When I know nothing can take you from me, just so long as we stay forever in our little dream world. Please just stay here with me, mon cher. Please."

She knew she asked the impossible of Gomez, for them to stay forever trapped between sleep and wakefulness. But had he not sworn upon the moon a thousand times that he would give her anything her heart desired? She would never ask anything of him again, except this one thing. He acquiesced with a tender kiss, and she rested her head against his chest, more aware than ever of the sound of his heart beating, solely for her. This was their time, and no-one could take this away from them.


	5. Chapter 5

A fortnight had passed by since Gomez's appointment. The family had taken the news in their own inimitable way; Morticia and Gomez had never shied away from discussing death with their children, and they were now reaping the rewards of their dark parenting. Any questions the two youngest Addams' had were answered with a gentle honesty. Fester's upset had been mitigated by the request from Gomez that he step into the role of Father to Wednesday and Pugsley, two wonderfully disturbed young minds to continue to warp and mould in the great Addams tradition. Their evenings all together lasted a little longer now; Ouija board game evenings, real-life hangman, wake the dead… their time as a family unit – Lurch and Thing included, naturally - passed in a blur of fun and screams. After bedtime had come for the children, Gomez would sit on the floor between their beds and tell gruesome tales of the Addams's of old.

After bidding goodnight and bad dreams to Mama, Lurch and Thing, he would leave those three to mooch about the place as they desired, taking his leave and returning to the top floor to be with his beloved. Morticia and he had now not made love for a full 12 days; the longest they had ever abstained from each other's passions, by about 11 days. There was no lack of affection and tenderness between them, it wasn't that. Nights were still spent, as always, wrapped in each other's arms, punctuated by kisses and whispers of adoration. But Gomez, on the couple of times he had come to seduce his dark temptress, had felt something was just not as it usually was, and they had fallen asleep, both secretly frustrated at not having been able to satiate their desires. Tonight, Gomez thought – and his body firmly agreed with him – he would try again, find out what it was that had dampened Morticia's craving for him.

He slipped into the grand bedroom, walls covered with dark black and red silks and velvets, black laces over the windows, all the better to keep the retched sunlight out during the day, and to dull the screams often emanating overnight. In the centre lay their bed. It wasn't huge, a modest double bed draped in silk sheets, but it was all they needed. They slept so tangled in each other they barely took up half of the available space, and their pre-bed sexual adventures took place upon a myriad chairs, chaise lounges and dressing tables in any case. As ever, the only light came from the candles burning on the floor around the bed, and from the silver moonlight shining through a crack in the drapes. Gomez smiled at his beautiful one as she gazed up from her book upon his arrival in the room. Her black nightgown left just enough to the imagination, and her hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders. Perfection, he thought as he stepped into the en suite to prepare himself for bed.

Morticia glanced up as the bathroom door opened a little while later, and the steam from the shower Gomez had just had filtered through into the room, misting over her vanity mirror. If he were to have his way that night, Gomez thought as he moved towards the bed, he would have to clean that mirror; he did so enjoy watching how she moved from every possible angle. As he approached, Morticia lay aside her book and threw back the sheets, turning her body slightly towards his as she welcomed him into her arms. Gomez cradled her against his shoulder, feeling that familiar stirring as she kissed his neck, before resting her head against his. Gomez enjoyed the closeness for a moment, his fingers absently tracing Spanish endearments over her bare shoulder. He shifted his hips slightly, fully pressing against her now, and she could feel his lust for her against her thigh.

"Gomez..." she murmured, her voice belying want and desire, but her body shied away a little, returning to the slightly more chaste arrangement of moments before.

"Mi preciosa, is there something wrong?" Gomez asked, trying to steady his own voice against both arousal and disappointment.

"I am scared I will cause you pain. I don't want to hurt you, mon amor," came the soft reply, spoken through loving lips pressed against his ear.

"That is all?" Gomez inquired patiently, keen to give Morticia the reassurance she needed.

She answered him with a single look through her long lashes, and Gomez nodded.

"Oh cara mia, you could never hurt me. Tish, you must know I crave you every second of the day and this long without us being together, coming together… it's been agony. I would never force you, my darling, but I swear to you, the only pain I know is that of you not wanting me any longer."

Morticia sat up a little, her legs curled underneath her and her and resting on Gomez's arm, her long hair sweeping over his chest as she moved forward to kiss his lips.

"I want you always, mon coeur," she moaned. "To fall asleep a single night without having felt your pleasure washing over me, it is no life at all."

"We have much to make up for," Gomez closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh as he sank lower into the pillows, and Morticia threw her leg across his body, straddling his thighs.

"Let's not waste another moment," she cooed, as she lowered her head and began to kiss a trail of searing kisses down his chest, his fingers tangled in her flowing locks. They had much to make up for indeed, and a long night ahead in which to do so.

Later that same night – or to be more precise, in the early hours of the following morning – Morticia was awoken by a frantic thrashing and moaning beside her. Her first thought before she opened her eyes, accompanied by a small smile, was to query whether her husband had not had enough of her over the previous few hours. They had come and screamed and climaxed and fallen together many many times over that night, until finally exhaustion had lead them from their blissful afterglow into deep slumber. But as she opened her eyes, Morticia quickly realised that was not at all what ailed Gomez at that moment. She could feel his legs still tangled with hers, his flailing hands grabbing at her side, and was shocked at the heat radiating from his skin. He was always burning to touch it is true, but this was beyond anything she had ever felt from him. Concern etched across her face, she sat up and reached over to Gomez, trying to wake him. Despite his feverish state and wildly writhing body, he eyes remained closed, and nonsensical ramblings issued from his lips as though gripped by delirium.

Morticia dropped to her knees at the bedside, trying to gain some control over her beloved and his febrility. She stroked his cheek and voiced her guilt to him and the empty room.

"Oh mon coeur, have I done this to you?" she wondered aloud, fighting back her tears. For someone who usually so rarely wept, Morticia had shed a lifetime's worth of tears in the last fortnight. As Morticia stroked Gomez's scorched brow, she noted a faint sigh of relief amongst his excited ramblings. She wondered if she should wake Mama, surely she would know what to do. But perhaps there was one thing she could try first. Morticia slid back into bed beside her feverish love, and with every ounce of strength she possessed, wrapped her ice cold body around his searing hot one. The disparity in their temperatures had always bought relief to each other, and as she held her husband in her cool embrace, Morticia was sure she could feel him begin to relax. His movements became less violent, his sweat-drenched skin cooled under her touch. His fevered words became fewer and far between, until at long last, he was still in her arms. Morticia breathed a sigh of relief, and planted a kiss on the back of his neck as she finally allowed herself to join him once again in their dream-world, safe in the knowledge that his Earthly body would see another dawn with her by his side.


	6. Chapter 6

Two months had now passed by, far faster than Morticia would have cared for; indeed, she would give anything to keep time from advancing one single minute if she could. She had sought out her old book of spells and hexes, pouring over the contents with Mama late into the night, even presenting her case to Mama's coven and pleading for help, something to keep Gomez and herself locked in their precious dream-world together for all eternity. All was to no avail. After several weeks of frantic searching, Mama had sat her daughter down and gently reminded her that, while understandable, her obsession with finding some way to stave off the march of time was leading her to miss the fact that time was drifting past inexorably in the meantime, and she might be better off spending her waking hours making the most of life with her husband. It had been quite the battle to open poor Morticia's eyes to this reality, but Mama succeeded. Morticia began to dote on Gomez, more demonstrably than ever before, indulging everything he desired; which, as always was solely her. Their mornings were spent a-bed, no need to rise much before noon, for the children were early to classes and Lurch, Thing and Mama had their freedoms to run their own errands. The afternoons were taken up with long walks around their vast estate, although Morticia noticed that Gomez tired sooner and sooner with each passing day. The evenings were spent, as they always had been, with the family. Usually just the eight permanent residents of the Addams mansion, but there were the occasional visits from Itt and Margaret. The nights, of course, were given over to pleasure and comfort between husband and wife, as they ever had been, although Gomez's waning physical strength distressed them both; his concerns being the raw passion that was such a hallmark of their marriage was becoming something less wild, more tender, and her worry being that this was a sign of an ever-nearing end for her beloved.

This particular evening, Gomez had retired to bed even before his children, apologising profusely to his loved ones, but he was barely able to keep his eyes open. Morticia had accompanied him upstairs, sitting by his side leaning against the padded headboard as she gently stroked her hand over his hair until he fell asleep. Unwelcome images began to creep into her mind, and she shook herself, trying to banish thoughts of the future for now. The images in her mind were replaced by a swirling dark fog, something of a dangerous sign. Nonetheless, Morticia embraced this new sensation, it was a relief to a loving wife who had been driven to the brink of insanity since that fateful morning ten weeks before when she had overheard the worst news of her life. She relished the bleakness of a blank mind, the banishment of all emotion and distress. She placed a gentle kiss on Gomez's forehead, smiling a little as she used her thumb to wipe away the vestiges of her lipstick. She rose to her feet, not quite sure of where she would go, as the night was still young, but her body and mind were seemingly no longer hers. She was happy to be guided by this new mysterious apathy that cloaked her mind in protective nothingness.

Morticia wandered aimlessly through the Addams' sprawling grounds, tracing her fingers over the top of centuries-old tombstones, enjoying the relief and comfort only the night time could bring. Unaware of her destination, she walked through the dark forest lining their land, feeling at peace with the myriad eyes – some animal, some lost souls – gazing at her from dark corners and treetops. Before too long, she came to a break in the woods, hearing the sound of waves lapping upon the shore – a soothing sound that one might think would only serve to strengthen the nothingness she felt. But then, nothing about the Addams family was as one might assume. She felt that dark mist clear from her mind as she startled and looked around at her surroundings. She was at Nox Lake; a shimmering black expanse of water, the shores of which marked the far boundaries of the Addams' estate. Quite apart from it's obvious beauty and intrigue, this place held a truly special place in Morticia's heart, for it was here, at midnight upon the Winter Solstice, that Gomez had fallen to his knees in the dark sand at her feet, and asked her to be his wife, merely hours after they had met. She felt her knees weaken as she sank to the stone love seat Gomez had erected by the water's edge on their first anniversary. It was a favoured spot for the two of them, far from the house and any interruptions, looking out over the pitch black waters, reflecting the moon and stars above on a clear night.

' _I remember that night we met,'_ she thought, unconsciously addressing her slumbering husband, way back in their martial bedroom. ' _I was captivated the moment I saw you. I have never been happier to have attended a funeral. Your wonderful laugh all throughout the eulogy. I knew then that I would never love another man as long as I lived. When you glanced over and saw me watching you, that wicked smile, so sure of yourself. I knew you had captured my heart Gomez, for any other man, I would have turned away, pretended I was just glancing around, and that would be it, but I couldn't stop staring at you. My handsome husband..._ '

Morticia gazed down at the black sand beneath her feet, recalling the moment Gomez had proposed.

' _You were so nervous that night, mon amor. I was afraid you were to tell me you belonged to another, that we couldn't be together as fate intended. I never imagined you would propose, on the very night we met. I remember you fell to your knees before me, and I saw that raw Spanish passion I adore in you so. You made me feel desirable, like no man ever had before. I had already started to accept before your proposal was even fully given. I have never known anything with such certainty, as I did that night; that I was meant to be your loving wife. Right here, on our very own shores._ '

Morticia stood once more, as she whispered her remembrances under her breath, hoping that somehow Gomez would hear them in his sleep. The black mist, which had been so welcome just an hour earlier, crept back, clouding her mind once again, this time with a far more sinister intent. A sole voice somewhere in the back of her head repeated one single truth over and over as Morticia began to step towards the captivating beauty of the water's edge.

' _You can't live without him. You can't live without him._ '

Relieved of all conscious control over her body, and with that solitary sentiment spurring her on, Morticia slowly walked forward through the softly lapping waves, oblivious to the icy water swirling around her ankles, her knees, her hips. Her black dress became heavy with water, and she stumbled slightly, splashing the frigid water over her torso, causing her to gasp and shiver despite the black fog luring her still further. Before too long, the gentle ripples in the surface were broken only by her shoulders, and she was finding it hard to fathom the ground under her feet.

' _You can't live without him._ '


	7. Chapter 7

This was it. With a blank expression painted across her frozen face, Morticia allowed herself to sink beneath the surface, her chiffon dress swirling around her frozen form as she began to drift slowly down. She felt a burning in her chest as her body's natural instinct to hold her breath underwater kicked in. Her hair danced in the current, matching the movement of her dress, and she felt an unexpected sensation, a sharp pain and tugging at her arm, once again jolting her back to a terrified, confused consciousness. Before she had had a chance to process what was happening, familiar strong arms hoisted her head and shoulders above the water, and she heard Gomez's strongly accented voice calling out to her.

"Tish, my God, what have you done?!"

Morticia had never heard such fear in her husband's voice, and she threw her arms around his neck in a mixture of panic, fear and despair.

"G-G-Gomez," she stammered, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, her entire body shivering with extreme cold. Gomez's arms were wrapped firmly around her as he half-carried her from the cold water, before collapsing with her onto the shore.

"Tish..." came his gasping reply, his body too frozen and shaking wildly, something until tonight Morticia had thought impossible. Tears poured from her eyes as she clung to her drenched husband, unable to fathom what had come over her, why she had taken herself out into the lake in the first place. She could remember nothing bar sitting on their bench, reminiscing, and the next thing she knew, her beloved grasping her arm, pulling her above the water. Gomez for his part was as confused as she was, and in not a little distress at the thought she would chose to end her life without him, as it seemed she had. It was coincidence he had been there at all, he thought, as he held her tighter, both too cold and weak to stand. He had woken with a start, and noticed she was not by his side, as truly by this time of night she should have been. He had risen, and slipped nothing but a thin shirt and pyjama pants on, fully expecting to find her in the lounge. Upon finding the house darkened for the night, he had questioned Thing and Lurch about their mistress' whereabouts. Lurch had gestured and intoned that he had seen Mrs Addams walking towards the forest some thirty minutes prior, and Gomez had set out in search of his wife, followed as ever by his faithful Thing. As Gomez had caught sight of Morticia sinking beneath the water, and dived in to catch her, Thing had rushed back to the house as fast as his fingers could carry him. He returned at that moment, pulling his wooden cart, with Lurch ambling alongside. Wordlessly, the two loyal gents prepared to return their master and mistress to the family home. Lurch helped a trembling Gomez to his feet, before resting him upon the cart, covering him in warm blankets. Lifting Morticia into his arms with no effort whatsoever, Lurch motioned to Thing, who attached the cart handle to his wrist, and together they made for home.

How they made it into bed, Morticia could not recall the following morning. She remembered bidding Lurch and Thing a goodnight, full of gratitude for their loyalty, coupled with acute embarrassment at what she had put her extended family through that evening, and especially the hurt she had caused Gomez, although she still could not understand why. Lurch had helped them to dress in dry bedclothes, and arranged extra blankets for the bed, lighting the master bedroom fire under the mantle before he had left. Morticia at least by now had stopped shivering. Her body had returned to its natural state… cool to touch, certainly, but exactly how it should be. Gomez, however, was still trembling with frightful cold, something Morticia hadn't seen in seventeen years of marriage, every single night by his side. He was wrapped in blankets, and his usually scorching skin was icy against her hands. She positioned herself across his body, attempting to warm him, mindful of the deeply unpleasant sensation afforded by the lack of direct contact with his body against hers. She hated not feeling his skin against hers. Her eyes flittered over towards the slightly open door of their magnificent en suite, and she placed a kiss on his temple, frowning at that odd sensation of cool skin against her lips, that skin which usually scalded her so terrifically.

Morticia turned the copper taps on the roll top bath, perching on the edge as she watched the steam rise from the hot water that thundered down into the black tub, fogging up the cracked and stained glass tiles lining the wall. She reached down to check the temperature of the water as it filled up the bath, wincing at the heat. Almost unbearable for her cold blood, perfect for her ordinarily hot Castilian love. She hurried back to Gomez's side, keen now to undo the damage he felt she had caused him. Tenderly, she guided him to his feet, trying to ignore the violent shaking that wracked his body as he stumbled along by her side. As they reached the ornate bathroom, she quickly helped him undress, whispering soothingly as she guided him into the warm waters that she desperately hoped would warm him to his core once more. She watched him lay his head back eyes closed as the warmth rushed over him, the shivering ceasing almost immediately. Morticia sank to her knees beside the tub, murmuring her impassioned relief at the change she witnessed.

"Mon amor, je t'aime, je t'adore, mon coeur."

Her voice broken with sorrow, she continued, stroking Gomez's hair as she felt the steam from the bath sizzle against her cool skin.

"Gomez, you have saved me more times than I dare to remember. Not only from certain death, as you did tonight, but in every way imaginable. I do not deserve you, Gomez Addams. But I do adore you. I only hope that you can forgive me."

Gomez's eyes flew open, his fine brow creased, as she reached out his hand to caress Morticia's face, the warmth of his skin leaving a pink blush to her cheek.

"Cara mia, I have nothing to forgive," he said, that same familiar raw emotion in his voice that she craved hearing, every minute of the night and day. "I live for you alone, I am only pleased that you are safe and here with me. All else is forgotten, mi preciosa."


	8. Chapter 8

"Gomez?"

Morticia called out softly as she rapped on the ornate wooden door of his study, gently pushing it open.

"Gomez? Darling, Weston is here, he wishes to see those copies of last year's taxes that you promised him..."

She trailed off as she took in the empty room. Wherever her husband was, it wasn't here, but the paperwork their accountant was after would be somewhere amongst the hodge-podge on the table. She called to Lurch, who had been passing the door at that moment, and bade him to show Mr Weston into the reception room and offer him a drink. Lurch nodded solemnly and made to do his mistress' bidding. Morticia sighed fondly as she surveyed the mess of documents and ink on Gomez's desk. As she cast her eyes across the various papers, her attention was caught by the sight of her own name. A sheet of expensive writing paper, covered in her husband's familiar script, lay half hidden under a pile of receipts. Her immediate task quite forgotten, she sat herself down in the old leather chair, pulling the letter atop everything else, and began to read.

 _Querida Morticia,_

 _I don't know how to even begin this letter, my darling. Weston suggested I should write my reminiscences to each of you. You will find letters for Fester, Mama and the children in the safe. I must confess, I have waited too long to even begin yours. My feelings for you cannot be measured by words, but I shall do my very best. Please forgive my lack of eloquence, mi preciosa._

Morticia felt her eyes begin to burn with unshed tears as she read. She knew this letter was intended for her comfort after Gomez's death, and she hadn't been expected to find it until then. Yet she found herself immobile in her husband's chair, her eyes drawn to the next word, sentence, paragraph by Gomez's words of love and reminiscence. Lifting a perfectly manicured finger to wipe the first of many tears from her cheek, she took in a ragged breath, and continued, Gomez's heavily accented voice ringing through her head as she did so.

 _I should begin at the beginning. The moment I laid eyes on you, querida, I knew I was lost to you for all eternity. That night at Balthazar's funeral. Oh Tish, it should have been such a treat for the whole clan; an axe to the head, and yet we were still able to insist on an open casket. Balthazar should have been the centre of attention that night. And yet, no one even gave him a second glance. Not after you had made your appearance, my love. I remember it so clearly. You, gliding across that graveyard, arm-in-arm with your dear Mama. You looked so radiant, almost an apparition yourself. Your skin was so pale in the moonlight, and your eyes so black and beautiful. Every man there was staring at you with undisguised lust; myself included. You captured my heart from that very moment. I had quite forgotten how to breathe, until Father nudged me back to reality. I think he knew that I had been enchanted, too. I remember him whispering to me that Great Aunt Hester's engagement ring had recently resurfaced, following a flooding of the cemetery, and that it was in the safe in the hall. Father knew I was to propose to you before the night was out._

Morticia swallowed hard against her growing sorrow, as she absently toyed with the antique black diamond on her wedding finger, quite at home next to her simple platinum wedding band. Gomez had never mentioned this before, that her dear Father-In-Law had accepted at face value his son falling in love at first sight with her, from across a darkened cemetery, and had encouraged Gomez to draw her into the Addams family. He had been a good man, Hector Addams. How wonderful it would be for Gomez to be reunited with his parents. Morticia had just never imagined he would do so without her by his side.

 _I confess, cara mia, that I have never known such nerves as I did that night. After all, I had made up my mind to marry you before we had even exchanged a word of greeting. I recall you telling me once, many years after the fact, that you thought I was so carefree and insouciant that night. I admit, I found the eulogy terrifically amusing, and the company in general delightful. But sitting there as the family spoke about Balthazar, with you opposite, I knew you were watching me. I tried to appear nonchalant, to hide the fact I was consumed with adoration for a woman I had only laid eyes on an hour before. I thought you would be able to read me like a book, and I was on my guard. I couldn't bear to risk losing you before we had ever even met. Had I known at the time that my laughter had attracted you so, I would not have stopped throughout the entire burial! I recall finding my gaze drawn to your beautiful blood-red lips over and over again. I think I can attribute many of my smiles that night to being lost in fantasies of kissing you._

 _After the pleasantries of the burial, I had been agreeably surprised to find that you had approached me first, to introduce yourself. I recall that first touch of your hand, cara mia, such blissfully cold skin against my own. Do you recollect my first mistake? I had been so lost in your divine presence that I quite missed the first time you uttered your heavenly name. Thankfully, you took pity on this lovesick fool regardless. I asked you if you would like to accompany me on a wander around the family grounds; and I thank the heavens that you said yes! If you had refused me, I would have joined Balthazar in that freshly filled grave right then and there. As we walked through our twisted woods, I knew you were truly at home. Very few people have ever spent more than a minute in there, and yet you, my darling, you indulged the tortured souls that lurk in the shadows. My dark encantadora. You were, are, and always have been the only woman I have ever lead through those woods and to the shores of our Lake Nox. By that time, I had fully made up my mind. Never mind that we had met only hours before; if there were gods in hell, you would agree to be my wife by the time the sun rose the next day. On the dark grey sands, by the shores of our star-lit black waters, I fell to my knees and asked you to do me the greatest honour in life._

Morticia smiled through her heartbreak as she recalled his proposal, his words of adoration and the way he had held her hand so tenderly in his, almost as if he were afraid she would break. Gone was the confidant, laid-back Castilian scoundrel she had found so captivating throughout the funeral ceremony (although she had, in later years, come to learn that this was bravado on his part, an attempt not to show his want for her too explicitly); and in his place was a lovestruck soul, asking for her heart, and promising her his.

' _Morticia. I know I have only known you a few short hours, but you have to know by now how I adore you. I cannot comprehend a single night of my life without you by my side. I will spend my life showing you how I venerate you, if only you will do me the greatest honour in the world. Will you marry me, cara mia?_ '

It had been the easiest question Morticia had ever had to answer. She had fallen hard for this man, and whether it had taken four hours or four decades, she would have given her life to him the second he asked.

 _You rewarded me with the greatest gift I have ever had bestowed upon me; your acquiescence. I dread to think what my life would have been if you had not agreed. And then our first kiss, oh mi corazón. To think, we were engaged to be wed before we shared our first kiss; even if only by a matter of seconds. For us to have ended up cavorting in the sand, oblivious to the howls and wails that emanated from the dark woods beside us; what a way to begin the greatest chapter of my life. I still don't think your mother ever truly forgave me for tearing your terribly expensive funeral dress that evening!_

Morticia closed her eyes, allowing the memories to wash over her. After she had enthusiastically – for her, at least – accepted his proposal, Gomez had rained kisses down upon her wrist, moving up over her arm as he stood, lingering an exquisitely long time upon her neck before finally meeting her lips with his. Their first kiss had encompassed a lifetime's worth of desire and adoration, and culminated in the giddy pair collapsing to the ground, rolling in the sand and dune grasses as the moon shone steadfast overhead.


	9. Chapter 9

Morticia was shaken from her reverie by the slow, heavy thudding of Lurch's hand upon the oak door. She looked up, blinking back tears as she raised a questioning eyebrow. A rumble from deep within the faithful butler's chest reminded her of the forgotten visitor in the reception room, and she quickly apologised to Lurch, handing him the papers that Weston required.

"Lurch, please send my apologies to Mr Weston, and let him know that Mr Addams will be in touch in due course. I'm sorry for the delay."

Lurch took the forms from his mistress's hand, and tilted his head to the side as he detected a slight waver to her usually steadfast voice. He nodded politely, his intuition telling him that the greatest service he could bestow upon Mrs Addams at that moment was to afford her privacy and space in which to cry. Over the past couple of months, whenever Morticia had felt the grief begin to overwhelm her dark soul, she had taken great pains to remove herself from her family, unwilling to burden them with her distress. She would find solace in the dark reaches of the estate, quiet corners of the great house, far away from Gomez, Fester, Mama and the children. But she often reckoned without Thing and Lurch. They were such familiar members of the household that they often passed by unnoticed, which was no mean feat for such a substantial creature as Lurch, it must be said. Nonetheless, on more than one occasion as Lurch tended to the deadly nightshade, hemlock and monkshood that graced Mama's prized poison patch, his concern had been piqued by the sight of a solemn Morticia gliding past, on her way to the family crypt. It was here that she felt she could safely pour her soul to her husband's departed loved ones, begging them alternately to intervene and save her beloved, or to take exquisite care of his soul, until she could join him in the afterlife and reclaim it for her own once more. The first time this had happened, Lurch had clumsily followed Morticia, bowing his head in respectful sorrow as he stood outside the stone edifice and overheard her broken sobs. He had later conversed with Thing, and they had agreed that their means of comfort for their mistress would be the continued upkeep of the children, house and home, along with indulging anything their master asked of them. Morticia was a gracious lady of the house, and she genuinely enjoyed her time spent with them both, but overt displays of emotion were a terribly private affair, reserved solely for Gomez. Thing and Lurch understood this. They understood a great deal more than anyone outside the family may credit them for.

As he left the study to return to Weston with the long-overdue papers, Lurch cast one final sympathetic look at his mistress, before closing the door firmly behind him. Morticia closed her eyes, allowing the tears she that had so stubbornly held back to fall. She sank back in the large leather chair, breathing in the scent that lingered in the study; that of Gomez's aftershave mixed with his fine cigars. After some time, her tears ceased to fall, her breathing became more even and controlled, and her desire to continue reading Gomez's divine reminisces grew stronger than the immediate sorrow that his words afforded her. She knew their history, their story together through her own eyes, naturally, and Gomez had told her countless times how he had felt about her at every stage of their courtship. But to read his words like this… it was somehow to her the most beautiful poetry; and as all great poetry should, it left her reeling, drowned in despair.

 _Do you recall our wedding night, cara mia? However did your dear Mama manage to arrange such a spectacular in just a week? I felt I should apologise to her for such a tight schedule, but after she forbade you from staying the night with me before we were wed; well, you know the passion I have for you, my love. I could not have waited any longer. That week had been the greatest torture of my life. And how fortunate that our date fell upon the Winter Solstice. 14 blissful hours of night. It was meant to be. To see you walking through the cemetery, bathed in candlelight; that is an image I have never forgotten, bonita. You were ravishing, in your black veil, and your most alluring lace gown, with that wicked slit to your thigh; you always did know how to drive me wild in front of everyone. Even through your veil, I could see your beautiful eyes shining up at me, I can picture them now as I write. How I adore your eyes, my darling one. I don't think I heard a single thing el sacerdote said as he pronounced us husband and wife. I only saw and heard you. We may have had a hundred dear loved ones there with us, but I remember nothing but you, and your musical voice as you swore your love to me. I promised you my life and soul for all eternity; and cara mia, I do so still. Death will not have dulled my devotion to you one iota, I can promise you this now as I write to you, and I swear long after I am gone, and you are reading this letter._

Beautiful sepia-washed memories of that night flooded Morticia's mind as she paused in her reading, now quite beyond tears. She recalled the long walk through the graveyard, her eyes fixed the entire time on the handsome Castilian waiting for her by the arch of twisted twigs and black ribbon under which they would wed. Fog had swirled around the feet of the assembled guests, and there was a dread cold to the night, which had caused almost all present to wrap up in furs. Yet Morticia had relished this weather. The dress she had worn had been a thin black lace and gossamer, affording very little real protection from the chill, and she could not have felt happier. Lumpy and Stumpy Addams had played a sorrowful adagio on the cobra and strings to accompany the dark bride as she glided towards her waiting fiancé, and her future. Morticia recalled how, despite the cold, Gomez's hand, which had early clasped hers as soon as she was within reach, had been so hot to touch, as he always was. Her hot-blooded Spaniard. Her beloved. She smiled as she thought back to the passion with which he had spoken, a jumbled mix of Spanish and English as his emotions had taken full control of his speech. Later, some of Morticia's family members had confided in her that they couldn't understand even his English sentiments, so strong had his accent become in the overwhelming rush to vocalise his adoration. She had, however, understood every word, and thrilled in hearing that intensifying of his accent, as she always did. The ceremony itself was over ever so quickly, at least it seemed that way to the enamoured couple. As the padre concluded his pronouncements, Gomez had grinned as he had gently lifted the black veil, at long last removing that obstacle between his lips and hers. One hand slipped around her waist, the other caressing her cheek as she wound her arms around his neck, lips pressed together and she was dipped in his arms, as the assembled crowd, the howls from the dark forest, and everything but Morticia and Gomez faded away into nothingness, and there was only an adoring husband and his doting wife.


	10. Chapter 10

_I feel I have too much left to say to you my dearest wife, and I shall end up writing you a novel if I don't edit my reminisces! I am afraid that you may one day forget our shared history, long after I am gone. I have now been writing this note to you for a full hour, and as I write I can hear our two dear offspring fighting with my best fencing swords in the library. Those rascals! I should have known that locking weapons away would not keep our scallywags from finding them. I shall continue this epistle tomorrow, my darling._

Morticia raised a weak smile as she noticed the slight smudge of ink across the bottom of the page, clearly indicating where Gomez had been surprised in his writings by their duelling children. She was almost relieved that he had taken a break in his musings to her, and she could fully understand why. She was emotionally drained, quite beyond tears, upon reading his loving words. Gomez, being by far the more traditionally emotive of the pair, would have naturally found it a terribly upsetting experience to put pen to paper in this way; he had said as much at the start of his letter. Morticia carefully laid the papers back on her husband's messy desk and stood somewhat shakily. A glance out of the window caused a double take, as she realised the sun had set as she had read, and the gentle lamp light of the mahogany and leather office was complimented by the silver light of the moon streaming in through the window. Morticia heard the sound of thundering footsteps approaching, and hurried to arrange her appearance akin to that of someone who had not just spent the morning grieving for her yet-living lover.

"Mother!" Wednesday cried as she and Pugsley tumbled into the study.

"Children! What is it?" Morticia asked gently, as she greeted them both with a kiss.

"We had career day today at school..." Wednesday began, before being interrupted by her brother.

"And the funeral director was there, he said… he said that we..." Pugsley was somewhat breathless, with excitement or from the exertion of having rushed through the house, Morticia couldn't tell. She smiled expectantly at her daughter, who took over once again.

"He said Pugsley and I could go learn from him this evening, Mother. Embalming and everything. Can we?"

"Well..." Morticia began hesitantly. She was pleased that her children were showing such an interest in their potential future careers already, but she really ought to run this past Gomez first.

"Father says we may, if you agree," Pugsley pleaded, tugging on his mother's skirts.

"Very well then. Off you go," Morticia agreed with an indulgent air, before adding an addendum as they raced off to summon Lurch to accompany them.

"Home by midnight!"

* * *

"They found you then?" Gomez grinned at his wife as she finally tracked him down. He had retired to bed mid-evening, his fatigue growing more acute, and had left her a short note with Thing, assuming that Morticia had been attending to sundry matters away from the home. It had simply read 'Our room. Missing you.' The dark maiden crossed the room to sit along side him, leaning against their headboard and entwining her fingers with his as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Victorian lamps covered with dark red chiffons, candles around the foot of their bed, and the dying embers in the fire were the only lights Gomez would permit in their bedroom of late, his eyes growing ever more sensitive to bright lights. Morticia sympathised. She hated any form of sunshine or white light, and would quite happily become fully nocturnal if the practicalities of family life would allow it.

"Lurch has gone with them," she replied, absently stroking her thumb back and forth across Gomez's wrist. "I've told them that midnight is curfew."

"Fully sensible, cara mia. Tomorrow is a school day after all," Gomez agreed, stifling a yawn.

"You are tired, darling?" Morticia punctuated her enquiry with a kiss at his temple. Gomez shook his head, although his weary manner suggested otherwise.

"I shall be fine. Will you join me now?"

Morticia nodded, one final squeeze of his hand before she retired to their en suite to prepare for bed. On her return, she was bought to a halt a few feet from their bed, as she took in the sight of her beloved, sleeping soundly before her. A sight that, up until their whole world had been turned upside down, would have elicited an indulgent smile from her lips as she climbed into bed beside her husband and silently cursed him for falling asleep before she could tire him out in her preferred manner. But now, her mind would immediately jump to the worst conclusion possible. What if it was another step closer to the end? She shook her head, trying to banish such thoughts. She knew deep down that the most logical explanation for Gomez's fatigue was a combination of the emotional toll of writing that letter, coupled with teaching Wednesday and Pugsley to duel. Morticia slid into bed, resting her head against Gomez's chest as she always did. It was how they had slept, ever since their first night together, and Morticia found it almost impossible to fall asleep without the steady beating of her darling's heart, the most beautiful music by which to drift into slumber.

As the final embers beneath the mantelpiece spluttered and faded into nothingness, Morticia was surprised to hear Gomez's low voice addressing her, breaking her reverie.

"What is it, Tish?" he asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. He had been woken by the uneasy feeling that something wasn't as it should be, and having ascertained that his wife was indeed in her usual place cradled against his chest, figured that it was not her absence from their marital bed, but some intangible sorrow deep within that he was sensing.

"Nothing, darling," she murmured quietly, turning her head to hide her face against his shoulder.

"Talk to me, preciosa," Gomez gently encouraged. He stroked her hair tenderly, and this simple act spurred Morticia to spill her soul, safe in the comforting darkness of Gomez's embrace.

"I found the letter, mon cher," she confessed, finding solace in Gomez's continued stroking of her hair and quiet reassurance.

"I'm sorry," Gomez said at length, placing a kiss atop her mess of black hair.

"Whatever are you sorry for?" Morticia raised her head, matching his gaze for the first time that day.

"I hadn't intended you to read that yet, cara mia. Not until I am gone. I… didn't want to upset you any more."

"Gomez, mon amour, I am pleased I found it. You remember so much about our life together. I confess I was desperately upset as I read, but only because it reminded me of what I am losing. To see our story through your eyes…"

The wavering of Morticia's voice spoke volumes, far more than her words could convey, and Gomez turned to pull her close in his embrace.

"My life did not begin until I met you, Tish. I do not care how many years I was destined to have in this lifetime, only that I spent every moment I could with you."

Quite beyond words at this moment, Morticia resolved to demonstrate the depth of her feelings in the manner she knew best. A sweetheart's kiss, full of sorrow and love, bestowed upon her reason for living.

That night neither of them slept. Wrapped in each other's arms, Gomez and Morticia shared their memories of their lifetime together, reminiscing until that dreaded sun rose once again.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you for the encouraging comments and reviews, it is very much appreciated. I had written a far more upsetting ending earlier, but couldn't resist giving them a little more time together!_

"Good morning, mi bella Diosa."

Morticia opened her eyes at the sound of Gomez's sweet greeting, and for a brief moment all was well in her world. Her red lips curved upwards in a smile as she took in her husband standing by the bedside, cigar and glass of port in hand; a typical Addams' breakfast. Having finally fallen asleep as the sun rose, Morticia had slept fully through her children's noisy preparations for school, through Lurch bustling about the floor below, and even through Fester's morning caterwauling as he made breakfast with Mama.

"Good morning, mon cher," she replied, reaching her hand out to stroke his face. Gomez turned his head slightly to catch his wife's thumb in his teeth, biting playfully and relishing the sharp gasp he drew from her lips.

"I have something for you, cara mia," he said lightly.

Morticia merely raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in response, half questioning and half suggestive.

"Perhaps later," Gomez laughed, noting the implication in his wife's reaction. "Tish, how long has it been since we took a honeymoon?"

"Oh Gomez, it has been years. Our fourth honeymoon was our last one, and it was before Wednesday was born, n'est pas?"

"Mi preciosa, will you do me the honour of accompanying me on one last honeymoon?" Gomez fell to his knees beside Morticia's bedside, and grasped her hand in his, locking his gaze with hers as he pressed her delicate hand to his lips.

Shaking off the foreboding she felt at his use of the word 'last', Morticia sat upright in bed, all the better to steal a kiss from Gomez before she responded.

"Oui, mon amour."

That evening, the family spent their customary time together, the children enthusiastically cheering on Fester and Lurch as they arm wrestled. Gomez had spent the past ten minutes deep in conversation with Mama, standing by the fireplace as Mama herself roasted bats wings for an evening snack. Morticia and Thing were both busy repairing a priceless wall-covering that had been badly burnt by Wednesday and Pugsley's duelling with flaming swords the previous evening.

"Thing, old chap. Would you be so good as to lend Mama a hand with her cooking?" Gomez graciously nodded at the hand as he strolled across to the couch to join his wife. Thing gestured his agreement and scampered off, as Morticia lay the tapestry to one side and held out her hands to Gomez. He settled by her side and smiled as Morticia lay her head on his shoulder.

"What were you discussing with Mama?" she inquired.

"That she will be happy to run the household whilst we are away. The kids will be fie in her capable hands; it's Fester she is concerned about! I have promised her that she has any means at her disposal to keep him in line and out of jail until we return."

"Thing and Lurch will be here too," Morticia mused, smiling over at the butler who had just won his seventh game in a row.

"Indeed. Well my darling, perhaps we should retire and prepare for our travels. We leave tonight."

"Oh Gomez!" Morticia raised her head and smiled at her husband. She hadn't expected him to have arranged everything already. Their previous four honeymoons had taken a good few months to plan.

"Where are we going?" she asked as Gomez rose to his feet, holding out a hand to assist his wife to stand, an age-old habit of his.

"Hoia-Baciu," came the response. Morticia let out a small gasp. She had always longed to visit the beautiful, haunted dark forest in Dracula's homeland. She nodded her gratitude and slipped her hand inside his in reply.

"Merci, mon cher," she whispered.

The rest of the evening passed quickly in a blur of preparations and farewells. As Lurch packed up the town car, Morticia and Gomez bade adieu to their family, with the usual admonitions to Fester and the children to please at least leave the house standing on their return.

Gomez had quite deliberately chosen a late-night flight in premier class in order to protect the couple's privacy, but there was no disguising the unease showing on his face as they took off, Morticia resting her head on his shoulder. She was quite aware that Gomez had a distrust of all modern technology, and would have preferred to sail across the Atlantic, if time had been on their side. She smiled, and bade Gomez to join her to sleep as they travelled.

They spent their first night in Romania in a gloriously twisted gothic castle on the edge of the forest itself. Upon their arrival, both Gomez and Morticia had been terribly tired, and had barely managed to collapse into the four-poster bed before falling into a deep slumber. Perhaps it was the effect of the journey, or maybe the result of the foreboding haze that emanated from the dark woods nearby, casting their dreadful spell over the newcomers. Whichever it was, the couple did not stir until the sun had fallen once more.

"Shall we, cara mia?" Gomez asked as they made ready to leave that evening. They would be spending the night in the forest, at Morticia's request, sleeping under the stars and relishing the cries of the dammed souls that were said to reside within. Together, they took their leave of the castle and made for the first line of trees, twisted and misshapen in the gloom. Morticia was in her element as she entwined her fingers with Gomez's and appeared to glide along by his side. It was late Autumn, and a ghostly mist swirled around the couple's feet as the stepped beyond that first boundary. All over the Northern Hemisphere, forests were turning a glorious patchwork of red and gold as their leaves turned and fell. But here, in Hoia-Baciu, the laws of nature seemed fully disregarded. The gnarled trunks of the contorted trees bore branches covered with black and silver leaves, and as they fell they were lost in the sea of fog surrounding the Addams'.

"Do you hear what I hear?" Morticia spoke softly as she tilted her head, the howls and cries of lost souls calling from deep within the shadows, far beyond the reach of the moonlight.

"I do. They call to you, mi encantadora," Gomez replied, undisguised admiration in his voice. He had always loved the way Morticia had with wraiths and spirits. Where most people may run afraid at the first suggestion of contact with the departed, Morticia embraced them. As she breezed through the forest, murmuring gentle reassurances, Gomez could not help but gaze with abject adoration. He found himself hoping that when he passed, Morticia would feel strong enough to commune with him the same way. He could not bear the idea of countless years wandering in purgatory without even the slightest contact with his beloved one, until her soul finally joined with his again. A gentle brush of air against his neck bought him from his reverie, and Gomez turned, expecting to see the pale visage of a wandering departed traveller seeking his way. Instead, his eyes alighted on his wife's alluring features, almost ghostly herself in the moonlight filtering through the broken branches above.

"Mon amour," she whispered, tugging on his arm. Gomez followed her without a word, allowing himself to be lead into a clearing in the trees. He glanced around, noting that they had come across the infamous dead circle. In the heart of Hoia-Baicu, surrounded by dark forest every way one looked, was a vast circle of soft grasses, where no trees whatsoever grew. It was said to be an ancient witching circle, from which the curse had never been lifted. The pale grasses appeared to glow silver in the light of the moon, and the mists that permanently drifted through the surrounding woods spilled out and covered the open space before them. Morticia did not speak, merely turning to face Gomez as she held out her hands to stroke his face, sinking to her knees as she did so. Gomez grew weak, descending to his wife's side as they embraced, consumed with passion. The voices of the dammed trapped within the forest seemed to grow louder in a twisted serenade as the pair came together, lost in the swirling fog.


	12. Chapter 12

Morning stole upon Hoia-Baicu far later than any of the surrounding countryside. Gomez had woken first, taking a good few moments to gather his bearings. Following their frenzied night in the heart of the witching circle, Morticia and Gomez had slept where they had fallen, tangled in each other, their clothing scattered far and wide in the grassy clearing. The twisted trees of the surrounding forest appeared to advanced during the night, and Gomez sighed happily as he listened to the ghoulish dawn chorus, lead by the spirits of long dead woodsmen. The sunrise had been ever so kind to the gothic couple this morning, dispensing with the usual dazzling sunlight which they both detested so, and instead bathing Morticia, Gomez and indeed the entire woodland in a silvery haze. Gomez wondered whether this was part of the charm of this haunted forest, that the black tree trunks and ever-present mists conspired to protect its ghostly inhabitants – and the odd honeymooning couple – from the horrors of daylight.

Gomez turned his attention to the raven-haired beauty still sleeping against his chest. Last night, he had bundled up his velvet jacket to use as a pillow, and just before falling asleep, had pulled Morticia's cape across their naked bodies, more to stave off the cold rather than through any sense of shame. There were none but him and his loved one and the long-departed souls trapped in the woods beyond, and Gomez felt no need for concern. Morticia's flowing hair spread out across his shoulder and arm as she began to stir, turning her head away from the gentle silver rays of the enchanted sun and placing a sleepy kiss upon Gomez's shoulder.

"Good morning, mi encantadora," Gomez murmured, stroking her back absently.

"My Gomez..." was Morticia's only reply, and her husband smiled indulgently. She was never overly fond of waking. Content to allow his mind to wander while his wife took her time to rouse, his eyes clouding over with unbidden tears as he listened to his half-slumbering beloved sleepily humming along with the chorus still emanating from the surrounding woods.

"Tish?" Gomez spoke some time later, now quite convinced by the change in Morticia's breathing that she was finally awake, although she had yet to move from her usual position against his chest. The large cape that served as their blanket had slid down a little, exposing the bare skin of Morticia's back, and Gomez's fingers traced loving Spanish sentiments across this heavenly canvas.

"Oui, mon amour?"

"I have been thinking. When my time comes, I don't want Pugsley to have to speak at my funeral. He's just a kid, and he should be able to spend the day having fun, not worrying about giving a speech in front of all of his relatives. Promise me you won't make him partake in that tradition?"

Morticia raised her head, somewhat taken aback by the topic of conversation. She propped herself up on her elbow as she reached out to stroke Gomez's cheek, and shook her gently sorrowfully.

"Oh Gomez. He wants to deliver the traditional speech for you, mon cher. He has been working o it for some weeks now. I have heard him practising with Lurch. I will do anything else you wish, but please don't take this away from Pugsley."

"My own dear boy. I had no idea. Then I shan't insist any longer. I forget that even though our children have so many of the Addams' qualities and faults, they are also blessed beyond words, for they have you as their mother, and with that comes great courage and strength."

Morticia ran her thumbs across Gomez's lips, a tender gesture that spoke far more than words could. Gomez knew she was demonstrating her gratitude for his sweet words; Morticia had always used her physicality to communicate, where he himself relished the spoken language as his preferred means. Wrapping his arms once more around her waist, Gomez lay his head back against the grass, and began to lightly verbalise his thoughts and wishes for his forthcoming funeral service. To him, it was an innocuous subject, and death had never been taboo in their family. Indeed, it was only when he felt the cool splash of Morticia's tears against his chest that he paused, glancing down in alarm.

"Mi preciosa! What is it?" he cooed, his gentle fingers wiping the tears from her porcelain cheeks.

"I am sorry mon cher. I truly want to hear what it is you want, when the time comes. Yet I still cannot bring myself to hear you speak of it – you know I will have no life without you, Gomez. I swear this to you now; the night that you are buried, I will jump in beside you."

Throughout their marriage, both Morticia and Gomez had made that vow a thousand times over, and they had truly meant it. Gomez also knew that if their roles were reversed, nothing anyone could say or do could stop him carrying through with that promise. But now things were becoming real; far too much so, and he feared for his wife's future.

"Please don't say such a thing, my love," he pleaded, burying his face in her hair. "I know we have always said this to each other, but I cannot abide the thought of you joining me so quickly. You must live your life as the devil intended, cara mia. Raise our children, see Lurch and Thing into retirement. Perhaps you will even remarry," Gomez shuddered at the thought, his own revulsion at the mere suggestion of his darling one remarrying quite disguising Morticia's own horrified reaction.

"But if you do..." he continued, "promise me you will find a man who adores you almost as much I do, and always will."

"Mon cher, no! Never. I am Mrs Addams until I die. No man but you will ever have my heart, my soul or my body. Please know this, Gomez."

Morticia spoke with a vehemence and intensity rarely seen by anyone but Gomez, and she punctuated her sentiment with a kiss, bringing about the end of that conversation for the time being.

The rest of the week passed by blissfully slowly. Even though they had the run of the entire estate, the couple chose to sleep out in the forest every night, and relished the constant dusk-like feel to the daylight hours. As they strolled through the woods by day, following the same path alongside the black-water river that snaked through the impressive landscape, Morticia confessed to Gomez that she had often dreamt of this place before, despite never having been. Leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked, she described how Hoia-Baicu was how she had always pictured their dream-world, that haven between dreams and awake where they could stay together forever, the place she begged him every night to promise to return to meet with her after he had gone. Gomez fell to his knees in the twisted forest, and swore to meet her there when the time came.

* * *

Even if it had taken a hundred years, the moment when her beloved husband left her in this world alone would have come too soon for Morticia. Fate has a way of inflicting terrible cruelty upon those in love, and Gomez's time came barely a week after their return from Hoia-Baicu.

That twisted Sunday morning, at that very moment Gomez breathed his last, the entire house stood still. Every clock and timepiece stopped, forever fated to display 07:36. Fires raging in the mantles suddenly grew cold, and scattered ashes upon the stone floors. Despite the lack of a wind blowing outside, a sudden gale whistled through the mansion, throwing open all the windows, and carrying with it the sounds of souls howling from the Addams' graveyard. And then everything was silent. Wednesday and Pugsley, in the midst of a duel, stopped and bowed their heads in sorrow, Wednesday holding out her hand to link with her brother's. Lurch and Thing, bustling about the gardens stopped in their tracks. Mama, cooking breakfast at her cauldron, whispered a sad blessing for the soul of her departed son-in-law. The only thing to be heard for miles around was the heart-wrenching sound of Morticia's desperate cries of despair.


	13. Chapter 13

Morticia had now endured a torturous eight hours without her beloved, and she was utterly broken. Over the past few hours, the other members of the household had all come into the master bedroom to pay their grief-stricken final respects to the head of their family. Wednesday, usually so stoic just like her mother, had not made a sound, but as she had been escorted to her father's body, she had been unable to hide the tears rolling down her face, turning to her mother in a rare request for comfort. Pugsley had clung to his Uncle's arm as together he and Fester had knelt by Gomez's side and Fester had poured his heart out to his brother, swearing to protect and raise Wednesday and Pugsley as his own. Mama had sorrowfully placed rowan berries and rosemary around Gomez's body, to afford him protection in the afterlife. Lurch had stood guard in the doorway, his head bowed and deep sobs resounding within his chest as he mourned for his master, Thing sat upon his shoulder. As a group, they had all attempted to comfort poor Morticia, but no solace could be found. Realising that there was nothing more they could do, Fester had gently ushered his family from the room, leaving Morticia knelt by the bedside.

* * *

The sound of assembled mourners in the courtyard, spilling over into the neighbouring Addams' cemetery, filtered through the open window of the master bedroom. Morticia, clad in her mourning dress and veil, pulled back the black velvets covering the window and gazed stoically at the crowds of Addamses and family acquaintances who had come to pay their final respects to Gomez. News spread fast amongst the witching community. Gomez's burial was not to take place until the following night, but the vast mansion had been opened to visitors from near and far, who were well catered-for by Lurch, Thing and Mama. The children clung to Fester, shadowing him in all he did as he they helped Mama with preparations for the following night's service. Whilst she was happy for friends and relations to be made welcome in the family home, Morticia could not bear the thought of conversing with anyone, not even Itt and Margaret, with whom she was very close. She shut herself away in the room she and Gomez had shared for eighteen blissfully unhappy years, and sank deeper into the all-consuming blackness which had for so long been her salvation, her comfort. Now, without Gomez, it was slowly suffocating her, and she welcomed it. A life without him; it was a living death.

As Mama had once lightly reminded her, Morticia had a multitude of black dresses, and she had chosen as her mourning dress to wear the same simple black lace gown in which she had married her beloved, and a black velvet cloak would cover her appropriately when she must face the visiting mourners the following day. Her hair and face covered by the same black wedding veil in which she had walked down the aisle nearly two decades before. Jet black mourning jewellery, made by Mama for her grief-stricken child, adorned Morticia's neck and hands, the locket upon her wrist containing Morticia's favourite photograph of her darling husband, and a lock of his dark hair. As he and Morticia had discussed, lying together in the safety of their witching circle in Hoia-Baicu, everything about the Victorian funeral arrangements was as Gomez had requested. Morticia allowed the black curtain to fall back across the window, blotting out the setting sun and bathing her in protective darkness, lit only by the solitary candle which had burned continuously by the bedside ever since Gomez had passed.

In the hours after Gomez's passing, Morticia had refused to leave his side. It had taken all of Fester and Mama's encouraging to coax her from her beloved once the undertaker had arrived, and once his job was done and any natural decay had been staved off by his concuction of potions, Morticia had returned to her place alongside her loved one. After the family members had begun to arrive, at long last she had agreed that his body may be moved to the library, where he lay in state. Three floors below her at that very moment, Morticia's husband lay, cold as marble, and she was half-mad with loss and sorrow. She closed her eyes as the memories of Gomez's final moments washed over her, cruel and unbidden.

 _That fateful morning, only a week after their return from Hoia-Baicu, had begun just as any other. For once, Morticia had awoken before Gomez, and had revelled in the quiet of the early morning, the cool breeze through the window and nothing but the sound of Gomez's heart beating as she rested her head in her usual position against his chest. How she adored that sound. For a full hour, Morticia lay nestled against her beloved, occasionally tracing gentle circles over his skin with her fingers. As was tradition in their household, Morticia and Gomez slept with the curtains open, inviting the night into their home. It was only once the sun had started to rise that they drew closed the black and red drapes, protecting themselves and their dwelling from the dreaded sunlight that the day would bring. That morning, as the unwelcome rays of the rising sun began to filter through the windows, Morticia slipped from the bed and glided across the room to pull across the curtains. She stood for a moment by her dressing table, lighting a single candle by which to seek her way back to bed. Her black chiffon nightgown swirled and danced about her feet as she slowly made her way across the room. Midway there, Morticia suddenly stopped in her tracks. Something had changed. She wasn't sure just what, but a dreadful chill filled her very soul. With a trembling hand, she raised the candle, allowing the light to fall upon Gomez's handsome face. His olive skin appeared sickly pale, and Morticia let out an involuntary sob as she frantically cast her eyes over his body, desperately seeking any signs that he was still breathing. The shallow rise and fall of his chest gave her brief comfort as she placed the candle down on the bedside table and knelt alongside her husband._

" _Gomez, mon amour?" she stroked his face, horrified at the coolness of his usually scorching skin._

 _With tremendous effort, and able to raise to his voice barely above a whisper, Gomez opened his eyes and turned his head towards his wife._

" _Cara mia… I am sorry, mi Diosa..." Gomez's eyes grew glassy as he raised Morticia's hand to his lips for one final kiss, the last of his strength drained by that one adoring gesture. Burying her head against his arm as her husband breathed his last, his fingers still entangled with hers, Morticia's entire world collapsed about her, and her agonized cries echoed throughout the house._


	14. Chapter 14

(Thank you very much for the kind messages and encouragement. I hope this final chapter is up to scratch. Thank you once again.)

* * *

It was less than 24 hours until the Addams clan would gather in the family graveyard and bury one of their own. As Thing swung the hammer against the great gong in the hallway, signalling 11pm and time to retire for the night, the multitude of family and friends who would be sleeping that night in various guest rooms around the mansion headed for bed. From far above in the master bedroom, Morticia heard the sounds of scurrying feet and closing doors, followed by a blissful silence settling upon the house. She had yet to face anyone but the six permanent residents of the Addams' house, and was dreading the pity and sympathy she would encounter the following night as she walked with Gomez's nearest and dearest. She craved one final night of peace. Slipping on a velvet cape over her silk nightgown, Morticia slid from the room and made her way noiselessly down the grand staircase. She glanced at the mourning wreaths of laurel and black ribbon which adorned many of the walls and doors, handmade by Mama in the Victorian style. Throughout the house, black veils hung over mirrored surfaces and table lamps were covered with dark red chiffon, signifying that the very house itself was in mourning for its master. Lurch had retired to bed along with everyone else, and yet the grand church organ in the front room played a solemn requiem throughout the night, a sorrowful serenade for Gomez. Morticia finally reached the door of the library where Gomez's preserved body lay in state. Throughout the day, various family members had kept vigil alongside him, bringing offerings of rowan and rosemary for his doomed soul, and every surface of the room was now covered in berries, branches and leaves. Candles enchanted by Mama burnt continuously upon the bookshelves, casting a soft light across the departed soul laying in his open mahogany casket, black satin lining the inside. Morticia's hands trembled as she approached.

"Mon amour," she whispered gently, brushing a thumb tenderly over his grey lips. They had done a wonderful job, she mused. He looked terribly smart, in his favourite smoking jacket and smartest suit, a cigar resting in his jacket pocket, placed there by Pugsley for his father's first smoke in the afterlife. His dark hair and debonair moustache were as coiffed as ever, and Morticia blinked back tears and she gazed upon his hands folded across his chest. Clasped in his left hand was a faded sepia photograph of the two of them on the night they had met. Morticia had not seen Wednesday sneak down earlier that evening to place the photo in her father's hands, knowing he would wish to be buried with a representation of his darling wife. Morticia felt the exhaustion of constant, all-consuming sorrow begin to creep upon her, and she turned to behold the leather sofa upon which the vigil-keepers had spent their day, watching over Gomez.

"Goodnight, mon cher," she murmured, stifling a yawn as she sank down into the inviting cushions and closed her eyes, feeling safe for the first time since Gomez had passed, merely being able to sleep so close to him once again, and all the while the mournful adagio played upon the organ flowed throughout the house.

After two hours of fitful slumber, a state which Morticia would usually embrace, she awoke with a start. Sitting up, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the low light, and felt her heart leap in her chest as her eyes alighted upon Gomez's body. She swore she could see his chest rising and falling. Rising to her feet, Morticia flew the short distance to the coffin, hands gripping the sides as, wide-eyed and hopeful, she cast her gaze across her dearest one.

"Gomez? Darling?" she whispered lightly, reaching out a shaking hand to caress his face. He was just sleeping! Joy and relief like she had never felt before – had never wanted to feel before – flooded through her body, and her dark brown eyes glowed almost amber for the first time in weeks.

As her fingers brushed over his marble-cold skin, Morticia felt a heavy weight crash against her chest, and her knees buckled. Her own skin could be cold as ice, the cooler the better. But never Gomez's. His had never been anything but scorching and blackness consumed every fibre of her being once again, that spark of hope so cruelly dashed as reality once again taunted the grief-stricken widow. Her eyes had been playing tricks on her, after all. They had made her believe her one reason for living had returned to her, and now she was broken twice over. Misery swallowed poor Morticia whole as she sank to the floor, the echoing cries of the day before now replaced with silent weeping for her unbearable loss.

The next evening stole upon the Addams clan with haste. Once again, Morticia found herself in her marital bedroom, fully shrouded in her mourning dress, listening to the growing chatter outside the covered window as the mourners took their place amongst the gravestones. Morticia sat for a moment upon the edge of the bed, glancing down through her black veil at the tear-stained letter clutched in her hands. Over the past 48 hours she had read almost every word a thousand times, and Gomez's voice echoed in her head as she closed her eyes, recalling his loving words.

 _I have been the most fortunate man in the world, my divine one. You gave me my wonderful children, of whom I am unbearably proud. The wickedness in their hearts fills me with wonder, and I know they will go on to achieve truly terrible things. Their strength, iniquity and intelligence comes from having you as their mother, and I thank you from the depths of my soul for the gift of our woeful Wednesday and Pugsley._

 _I beg that you do not mourn too greatly for me. I have lived to experience the greatest romance and pleasure ever known, simply by being your husband, and for that alone I feel my life has been well and truly fulfilled. A single day with you is all any man could ever have wished for in life, and I had 18 blissfully unhappy years with my beautiful dark Diosa._

A further three pages detailed Gomez's intimate memories of every occasion he had spent on this Earth as a doting husband, adoring lover. He recalled moments that Morticia had long since forgotten, bringing those painfully beautiful memories flooding back, intensifying and easing her sorrow in equal measure.

 _I know you love me, Tish. How could I not? You tell me, and you show me, every day. I worship you, and I pray your sorrow will not be too great when at last you come to bury me. I know when that day comes, you will be ready. I will be with you, cara mia, and I will wait six feet under for as many years as I must, until you join me once again, and our lifeless bodies can rot together for all eternity._

Come this part of the letter, Morticia had not once been able to read the final short paragraph that followed, so consumed by her upset at this juncture. This time was no exception, and as she heard Lurch's heavy knock upon her bedroom door, she whispered to her departed love.

"You were wrong, mon cher. I am not ready for this. I never shall be."

How Morticia ever made it through the memorial, she never knew. As she sat next to Fester and half-listened to the eulogies, a typically Addams-like mix of jovial and mournful, her entire body felt numb. She was unmoving, quite as still, pale and cold as the statues which stood in various stages of disrepair around the cemetery. Yet beneath her black mourning veil, the tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks, and her hands shook in her lap. As dark clouds drifted across the moon, plunging the service into near darkness, the mourners escorted Gomez's coffin to the graveside, open within the mausoleum which housed his immediate family. Wednesday recited a dark Latin text as Gomez's casket was lowered into place, and Morticia found her body tensing, as if ready to fulfil her promise to jump in alongside him. She was saved only by Lurch's protective hand upon her elbow, and she instead sank to her knees, head bowed, as she prayed to the dark goddesses, to Hades himself, to watch over her beloved.

* * *

It was exactly one year to the day when Morticia Addams breathed her last. Despite her greatest efforts to retain some sense of normalcy – or at least what passed for normal to an Addams – for her family, she had slowly grown colder, more withdrawn, sinking deeper into grief-driven blackness until the slow beating of her fractured heart could no longer sustain her. One year to the day since she had lost her darling husband, Morticia lay down upon their bed for the last time, the crumpled letter clasped in her hands. As she closed her eyes for the final time, she heard Gomez's Castilian voice in her ear, speaking the final words of the letter, the ones she had never dared to read until now.

 _I will wait for you for all eternity, mi Diosa. When your time comes, and no sooner, I will be waiting to join with you again, and we will have forever together in our dream-world. I will be there, between sleep and awake, to be with you for all time, cara mia. Te amo._

" **You know that place between** **sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting.** **"** **J.M. Barrie**


End file.
